Title: To Catch a Star
Summary: Some things are fixed and some are in flux. Some phenomena are the causes that produce the effects and others are the effects following the causes. The universal laws of time will be upheld. This he knows. This he promised.
A tale of a destined love across the stars as the Doctor travels through space, time and anguish to deliver on a promise. (Eleven/River). Part darkfic, part romantic.
A/N: Was originally supposed to be some future doctor, but I kinda 'love' eleven and so be it Besides Eleven/River dynamic is the best! Beware, the concept of spoilers is used and uttered. And you might get a hello sweetie or two.
-o-
The essence of causality is the production of an effect by a cause. Causality is the internal connection between that which already is and that which is generated by it—that which is only becoming.
You who swallowed a fallingstar, o' heartless man, your heart shall soon be mine.
-o-
He met her again and again. Hello sweetie written across the stars, the words slipping into his soul unnoticed and taking claim to his hearts with no consent of his. At first he balked, hid and ran as far away as possible, convinced he could outrun the universe and its cruel attempt at destiny. Apparently fate was playing dice with his life, and he cared not for the outcome. He was a Time Lord, and nobody was going to direct his actions. So he ran, hid and looked at her annoyingly whenever she did show up; her lips coloured with a knowing smile.
He felt nauseously trapped. No matter where he went, be it the far galaxies of Trhilonia 3.9 or the long gone deserts of Hoshi, he was assaulted by her presence. Little notes left for him at historical events, strangers coming up to him at markets and giving him co-ordinates and sweet greetings on his psychic paper – for a time he considered throwing the god damn paper out. But he couldn't. That was the irresistible thing about the chase. And occasionally the summonses were grandiose, left to taunt him throughout the span of the universe, waiting for him to discover and then come. And they did beckon him, he couldn't resist. He should just leave her be. But that was the curse of it – he couldn't. For at the end of the 'hello sweetie' gratified on the Berlin Wall or written with star dust as a G.67 star supernova'ed, he knew adventure was waiting for him.
And, unknowingly to him, his curiosity about this mad, rather intriguing, woman got the better of him. In the end he came to cherish the ridiculous summons and in time they transformed. No more a heavy, dutiful burden he had to answer to but instead he started to look forward to the next meeting and he started wondering how she was going to surprise him. Anticipation became something altogether different. Summons became love notes across the universe, crossing time and distance. There was something beautiful about it. And that he cherished.
-o-
The streets were an abundance of colours and impressions, all crammed together in a big cluster of life. Life, what a wondrous thing. What a truly marvellous, lovable thing. A smile split the Doctor's face in half as he walked the bustling streets of a suburban space city, a bounce in his steps as he strolled past peculiar species of life and an occasional human. The city itself reflected by the twin moons, faint light shone upon the city's towering spires and domes; ornate buildings gilded in a silver shower of light. Silver buildings that seemed to reach into the very sky, hands aiming for heaven or the vastness of space, almost seeming to go on infinitely into the sky. A city of light, indeed. Ah, the sight and sound of life. The feel of life, indeed; for the city was throbbing with life, pulsating like the flow of blood through the system of a human, like the electrical signal running through the system of an… Ah – here goes the ever rambling madness, the Doctor mused.
Looking enthusiastically at the window shops and the many various beings occupying the shopping streets, the Doctor ignored his originally rant and instead tried to locate Xith avenue. He looked at his watch – he was early which was quite uncharacteristic of him. But then again he remembered the last time he'd been late. He shuddered. Let's not think about that, eh, old chap.
And then he spotted her, her aura shining bright and clearly, beckoning him to come closer. He felt his pulse quickening and his steps hurrying before he could protest. The café was a square, two-storey building, the roof a jagged sea of glass spears reaching into the sky, catching the light in a glitter of vivid particle dance. Quite an odd roof for an antique coffee shop but then again, the City of Lights had its quirks. A mosaic of strange, old and new artefacts, all somehow connected to glass. Whether it be a door of glass, a window of glass or apparently a weird roof of glass; glass was everywhere. And it glowed, sparkled and gleamed.
The white, almost see-through sign above the door declared it as Coffeelicious Intergalactic Inc; a descendent of a Starbuck chain collision with the Ne'ths taste for space caffeine.
"You know, this is the last place I would have expected you to designate our meeting point. You! in a city thousands of years from your own planet and you decide to inhabit this tiny, little cafe. Blimey though, it is a lovely cafe. A bit run down, little rough around the corners, seems rather dusty compared to the rest of the glass in this city. You know, I would have thought you'd wanted to meet me at the Palace. I hear they have an excellent view of a rising star-ray."
River greeted him with a coy smile and ignoring his long rant she pointed a slender finger to a chair next to her, beckoning him to sit down. Her eyes were glinting in the fading light and sparkling like the glass buildings around them. He pretended to be put slightly out by her demeanour and sat down with a heavy sigh, although he felt giddy and was secretly giving her a look over.
Her ruby hair was in a wild array, chaotic and beautiful. A halo of curly strands of crimson. He had an unbearable desire to tangle his fingers in it but he pushed that thought far away.
"Strange, isn't it doctor; This whole city, this world, so strange and yet, here in the middle of a strange street there's an ordinary coffee shop, an antique coffee shop. I couldn't resist." River grinned.
"Well, coffee has always been quite the 'hit', no matter where or when. Though personally, I've always had a thing for warm chocolate, marshmallows and pistachio"
"No companion?" she asked him, once again ignoring his rant.
"Somewhere," he answered as he pointed out over the glass city, "Funny, they never seem to understand the whole 'stay out of trouble'. Always wandering off."
River chuckled, putting a stray strand of curly hair behind an ear.
"I bet you, if they never wandered off, you would be bored to death."
He laughed.
"You calling me a troublemaker, River Song?" he asked in mock hurt.
"Doctor, you are the definition of a magnet for trouble," she jested.
"And that would make you what?" he asked with a smile, although beneath it, he was serious. He knew she sensed his real question. He desperately wanted to know. Desperately needed to know.
"Trouble," she answered, her eyes twinkling and her lips dark red in the faint light.
He gave her a faint smile and looked out over the crowd. He wondered if he'd ever find out. Who she was and what she was to him. She was always shrouded in mystery, somehow declared out of bounds for him. A nice, wrapped up present – only he wasn't allowed to unwrap her.
A waiter, a blue-skinned guy wearing a green toga and strange tattoos', came to their table and placed two drinks – a delicious looking coffee-twist and his chocolate with both marshmallows and pistachios'. River knew what he'd wanted and ordered for him apparently. It tickled him that she took such liberties but on the other hand he found it rather exciting. He couldn't really decide whether he should feel bothered or flattered; his thoughts and emotions running around chaotically in his mind. The blue toga guy lingered at their table, his indigo muscled arms flexing in front of River as he spoke to her in what couldn't be taken for anything but flirting. The fact that the blue alien had the guts to actually flirt up River while he, Time Lord, sat beside her, had him both intrigued and very much bothered. Why was he feeling so possessive! There was no reason for that, now was there! Get a grip, old man.
Watching as River slyly answered the guy back in the same flirtatious manner, the atmosphere tingling around her with uncharged electricity, he felt almost sick. She was soaking up the attention and it annoyed him. Narrowing his eyes, he sent a scowl to the waiter. An intense look that clearly said; back off. The effect was astoundingly swift and efficient – one look in his direction and the blue waiter quickly scampered away, a frightened apologetic look in his large, alien eyes. That would teach him some manners.
"Sweetie, stop scaring the staff," River told him as she took a sip of her warm coffee, her eyes regarding him with impish glee as she licked cream off her lips.
"Honey, I was merely attempting to get 'blue' over there to wait on the other customers," he bantered back, without missing a beat.
Her eyebrows crinkled as she gave him an annoyed look. He grinned, knew he'd struck a chord.
"What's a matter, Honey?" he taunted, enjoying the slight exasperated twist to the smile she fixed him with.
"Honey me one more time, and I swear I'll…"
"Sweetie me one more time…" he gave back gleefully, believing for a sweet moment he had the upper hand.
"Sweetie," she cooed.
It was a lost cause.
"Yes," he sighed.
"I do love it when you get all hot and bothered but # is really not my type and there's really no reason for – "
"# ?"
"The boy!"
"You know his name!"
She gave him look, a mix between a smirk and exasperation.
"So what is?" he asked her, curiosity holding him in an iron fist.
"What is what?"
"Your type?"
"Oh - spoilers"
"But it's not blue over there?"
"No" she sounded aggravated.
"You don't like the colour?"
"He's a bit young, sweetie. I don't mind the colour. Reminds me, I once dated a green fella, he had the funniest - "
"I get the picture"
"Jealous, are we now?"
"You tell me! Should I be?"
"Spoi-lers" the words came out in the trademark, sing-song voice; the voice that crawled beneath his skin and lingered there, itching.
They sat in silence again, watching the bustling crowd and drinking their hot beverages.
"Was he a gregari?"
"What?"
"The green guy – do keep up, River!"
"Doctor, really"
"I'm curious – you keep telling me about your past boyfriends. I'm starting to believe there's a hidden agenda behind that – so River Song, are you trying to make me jealous?"
"Yee-ees," she told him with a laugh and a roguish look in the depths of her blue eyes.
"No need, all you have to do is ask," he teased her back as he waggled his eyebrows at her, playing along with the game. A game he wondered about quite a lot, who'd started it? She laughed merrily and he joined her.
After another beat of silence, he asked her another question, this time sure she would answer; one way or the other.
"So, why am I here?"
She turned her head and smiled.
"Trouble," she spoke in a low, flirty voice.
"Ah," his voice took on a silky tone as well, "now is that you-trouble or trouble as in someone, something is messing around with the universe?"
"The best kind," she answered cryptically.
"River, for once, just answer the bloody question,"
"The military is planning a coup" she told him in the same, serene voice, not troubled by his outburst.
"Wait what! Here, in the City of Lights! Impossible. The Judoon would have them under lock and key before they could proclaim 'what' under the Shadow Proclamation!"
"Well, obviously they are not planning on the coup being legal – we are talking criminals here."
"And you know this how? And what criminals?"
"I just know the time and place, I'm afraid."
"River!"
"Yees"
"How do you know? – Who told you?"
"You did", again the same calm voice as she looked at him, her eyes alight with mirth.
"What"
"Well not you-you. But future you."
"Now why would I tell you that when every bloody time I see you, you are shouting 'spoilers' left and right. That does not make sense!"
"Beats me, he didn't really specify anything but the where and when. And frankly, I was quite occupied with something else at that moment."
"Occupied! With what!"
"Spoi-lers"
"Argh!" he had taken a gulp of chocolate and was now spluttering the warm drink out, the warm liquid running down his jaw and spotting their otherwise pristine glass-table. This was bloody impossible. How was he supposed to have a decent conversation with this woman when she answering everything with spoilers?
"You know, I hate me sometimes. The least I could do is help myself." he told her with a frown, wondering why his future self wouldn't divulge more information when his future self knew exactly how annoyingly not knowing was. Damn Time Lord, he cursed at himself.
River smiled coyly; "Oh don't worry darling – we'll have a smashing time figuring this one out and no harm done. Otherwise I'm sure he would have mentioned something"
"You sure I did not say anything else?"
"Doctor!"
"Yes, yes, spoilers boilers. So when is this going down?"
River looked at her watch; "T minus 67 blips"
"Blips?"
"Private joke, sorry – I mean 67 minutes"
"Private joke with whom?" he asked even though he knew the answer, he was starting to feel a little put out.
"You," she told him with a wide smile.
"Oh brilliant. We are going to develop our own language then!" his tone was mocking her.
"No need darling, we do perfectly well in English and old high Gallifreyan"
Apparently she had an answer for everything.
"Why do I teach you Gallifreyan anyway!" he spoke out loud though it was more a question directed at himself, exasperated exclamation.
"I asked," River replied sweetly, as she looked at him from beneath her dark lashes, "simple as that"
"Simple! River there's nothing remotely simple about old high Gallifreyan"
River only laughed, and it was contagious. Damn woman. She drank the rest of her coffee and stood with a flourish, leaving behind a bundle of credit-notes under her cup.
"Shall we," she spoke as she started striding down to the street. He quickly gulped down the rest of his own drink and then followed her. He watched, half-amused, half-bewildered as she waved goodbye to 'blue' and marched down among the many shoppers, only stopping to give him a 'hurry up' look.
He grinned, and feeling quite chipper he ran towards her, gripped her hand in a tight hold and started running down towards the Palace.
"Let's go kick some alien butt," he yelled as he ran, the bustling crowd making way for the two of them. River beside him laughed as well. The sound drew him in, like an enchanted lullaby.
"Lets" she answered him, her hand still resting warmly in his.
-o-
He met her again and again. Their paths intertwining now and again, her life entangled with his and his with hers. Wherever he went she was branded into his being, an invisible word in his soul, slumbering and taking up residence. And when he met her, sparks flew and that invisible word came forth from its hiding place and delighted his existence, her name a bittersweet song in his veins. Again and again they met. Playful banter mixed in with adventure and danger. It was the perfect game; one he couldn't resist. If she wasn't the one to shout 'spoilers', it was him. No synchrony to hold the pieces together and every time he met her, he felt something tugging at his soul. And every time they departed, a piece of him left with her.
Cosmic love, he wondered.
-o-
No time, he thought with a pang of dread. The military was coming closer and closer, advancing further into the fortress of the Glass Palace, destroying whatever stood in their way. He could hear guns and lasers blazing in the neighbouring corridor, blasting holes in the glass palace, pieces of ornate glass-spun wonders hurtling razor-sharp through the air. Blasting holes in his hearts, he thought with despair as he looked down on the glass-stained floor, the blood soaked floor, where River sagged against the glass wall, her shoulders slumped and her breaths quick and shallow. It had all gone horribly wrong. Around them the glass ceiling and glass walls glittered in stark contrast, and he could see the blurred image of blood red on the glass floor – a grotesque picture. They always wander off, he thought, the words echoing hollowly in his mind. She was not supposed to be here, to be hurt. This was not supposed to be happening. He cursed at himself for agreeing to split up – stupid, stupid, stupid thing to do. It had seemed such a good, efficient idea at the time; him off trying to reason with the alien militia and her off trying to warn the sitting royalty they were about to be bloody murdered.
He bent down, gently caressing her cheek, trying to gauge her level of consciousness. Her lovely, ruby hair – the adorable, impossible curls – was matted with dark blood, caked into the strands. Half dried flakes of dark, almost black blood painting her pale face and running down her neck, staining her clothes. He almost gagged at the sight, his stomach in knots at the sight of her blood. The smell was raw.
"River," he prodded gently as he squatted next to her, almost afraid to touch her. Where was all the blood coming from! "River, you have to wake up now"
"D-doctor," she half whispered in a tiny whimper, her eyes opening for a slight second, not really focussing on him.
"Yes, I'm here" he told her in a soft voice, brushing his thumb along her cheek and trying to stop himself from crying. She felt so cold.
"S'hurts."
"I know, I know, sweetheart. Just hang on," he whispered to her, his voice strained and almost breaking; the affectionate name slipping from his mouth without him really noticing.
He scoped her up in his arms, settling her slumped form against his chest and strengthening his hold under her legs and arms. He could feel blood seeping in through his clothes, wet and cold, sticking to him. No time, he thought again. They had to get away – and quickly. He heard the splintering of glass somewhere beyond the wall and in a panic he started down the corridor in a half run, half walk, intricate maps of the Palace on frantic display in his mind as he tried to work out the best route.
Obviously the military had barricaded the front of the Palace, laying ruin to the beautiful Glazier of Glass garden while simultaneously working their way in through the less well-guarded backyard. For a split second he imagined the beautiful glass garden in ruins and it made him sad. A feeling he would save for later, no time to mourn art now. River shaking in his arms brought him back again to the present, only saddening him further, her blood sticking to him almost magnetically and mingling with his own beads of perspiration.
He quickened his pace, rounding a corner and skidding, almost keeling over. Continuing he passed dark, high-ceilinged windows, the twilight sky shining through the stained glass. He briefly looked out into the night and saw a few dark shapes in the air. He heard the distant roars and cringed as the howl of the beasts entered his mind and he remembered their names. So the bloody corrupt, greedy military had recruited the damn Ra'Khan'd – Nightmare Riders. He could feel himself tremble as he ran, the memories of the terrible beasts coming forth, perspiration travelling down his spine in streams of cold sweat and horror. No time.
River mumbled something in his arms and he stopped, catching his breath. The blasting seemed to be getting louder. Scrambling over boulders of broken glass he hugged River closer to his chest. He could feel his hearts hammering and his throat felt constricted but beneath that, an echo almost, he could feel her heart as well. Erratic and weak maybe, but still there. It calmed him down somewhat, a comfort to feel her fighting. She muttered something again, the words incomprehensible and slurred.
"What's that?" he asked her, his voice low and tender. No need to frighten her – he was frightened enough for the two of them.
"s'canals" she murmured, shifting slightly in his arms.
"Say that again"
"The canals, sewage system – way out," she mumbled, her eyes opening for a second before they closed again, a frown appearing on her pale face. She must be in excruciating pain, he thought. Damn.
"River," he whispered, holding her protectively and securely as he started climbing down a narrow staircase, a new route flashing in his mind's eye, "You are bloody brilliant". She mumbled something again but he couldn't discern anything comprehensible.
"Shhh," he soothed, brushing a finger against the side of her stomach in a tender caress. Hoisting her up, afraid he was going to drop her, he continued down the steep steps. His arms were beginning to feel the strain of him carrying her and he cursed. No time to complain, he mentally scolded himself, you are not the one in pain.
The further down he went, the more distant the sound of gunfire and screams became but likewise the more cold the air became as well, chilling his blood-soaked body and producing goosebumps and shivers from both him and River in his arms. On his descend down he noticed the glass walls began to change, stone replacing more and more of the décor and in the end he reached the cellars and they were enclosed in stone catacombs, not a single piece of glass in sight. And for the first time since finding River, he breathed a small breath of release and hope. The clamour from up above was only a dull echo down here, almost non-existent, and their escape seemed much more plausible now.
"River," he prodded as he walked in the faint light, cold stone encasing the beginning of a system of tunnels. "You with me?" Nothing, but he could hear her breathing; shallow, hurried intakes of air. She had to stay awake.
"River," he said a bit more forcefully.
"Mm here" she answered him and he felt his hearts calm down further, hope blossoming in spite of everything. He ducked his head slightly as the tunnel narrowed and the ceiling became lower. The smell was cold and rank; a chilly breeze wafting through. They were going to make it. Back to the Tardis, patch River up with a high-dose of Nano-genes intravenous and everything would be fine.
"Not long now," he told her, not really sure who he was trying to reassure, and he held her tighter against his chest, trudging further into the dark tunnel, further away from havoc and nearer freedom.
The light in the tunnel was slowly fading and all of a sudden, a loud booming voice rang out of the darkness, stopping him in his tracks.
"Stop or I'll fire," it said in an authoritative command, the accent most assuredly Khan'dalian. No, no, no, the words rang in his ears as he stood still, the barely conscious River heavy and cold in his arms, dread travelling nauseously through his body.
"Just passing through," he told the hidden alien in a hoarse voice that sounded foreign even to himself.
"You're not a citizen of the Lights," the Khan'dalian declared and the Doctor could hear the clinking of armour further down the small tunnel.
"No, just a tourist," he answered his voice carrying an undertone of despair as he held River closer, enfolding her protectively. Her head rested against his shoulder and he could feel her shaky breaths against his damp clothes.
"Show me your identification and intergalactic visa, sir," the Khan'dalian said and he stepped out from the shadows. A Major from the looks of it, the Doctor surmised, as he regarded the bulky alien who was in full battle armour.
"Right. They are in my pocket. I'm just going to lay her down," he told the Major, "and then get it" He settled River on the cold, damp floor as gently as he could, briefly brushing his fingers against her cheek and muttering a few comforting words. She barely registered it, muttering something that sounded like 'ghempus'.
He handed the Major his psychic paper and stood back to let the other alien examine it, kneeling next to River, her hand in his as he felt for her pulse. He could hear more movement of metal, armour clinking, and he sighed, knowing more was coming. Must be a whole battalion. Not good odds.
"You a Night Rider?" he asked the Major conversationally, afraid he would otherwise start rambling about the Shadow Proclamation and surely piss the hired guns off.
"U-huh," the Major said, "Class VI Nightmare"
Bloody hell!
Bloody. Bloody bloody hell!
"And you sir" the alien said, his voice no longer passive but dark and sinister in its connotation as he looked up from the psychic paper The Doctor looked into the glinting yellow eyes of the Khan'dalian and he could only describe the feeling in the pit of his stomach as terror. "You sir, are a Time Lord"
Time Lord, Time Lord… The words echoed in the dark tunnel threateningly and the alien bared his sharp teeth in a grim smile. The higher classes of Khan'dalian Night Riders could detect psychic residue, he remembered, trained in combat from the moment they could walk. Aptly nicknamed Night Riders as they would swoop down from the dark skies on their beastly Nightmares and attack with claws and blazing lasers.
Before he could panic though he saw the stun gun being raised and he watched in horror as the yellow light hit him in a blast of colours and sparks and he felt himself fall to the ground. No time, he thought, before he was enveloped in a void of unconsciousness.
-o-
He met her again and again. Any linear concept of time and the universe disappeared beyond his comprehension and he was left with fragments. Glimpses of the future, of the past and of the presence but never in the right order. Only fragments. He longed for coherence, longed to know everything. But they were shrouded in mystery, both of them, and he wondered if maybe that was not better. For he met her again and again – knew every time they said goodbye that he would see her again. Theoretically they could keep meeting for an infinite numbers of times, he reasoned with himself and one day he would have all the pieces to the puzzle and all the fragments would fit together so perfectly. It was not something he looked forward to, he knew the implications of that event. He knew what synchrony meant for them. And so he came to cherish the fragments, for the whole picture was too grim to even contemplate.
-o-
When he came to, he was lying on chilly glass, his clothes heavy and soaked with water and blood. A gently drizzle of rain covered him and the rest of the landscape in an almost silent wet scenery. He bolted upright, breath perturbed and his mind panicking. Far away he could hear explosions and screaming, and he could see billowing smoke in the distance, the Palace in bitter ruins. He was on a street, in the outskirts of the city, he surmised, as he looked around trying to get his bearings. His head hurt, aching with agony.
"Doctor, doctor" someone was yelling but he ignored it. The voice wasn't Rivers. He felt almost sick as he looked around and found no one lying next to him.
"River," he whispered his voice raw and hoarse.
"DOCTOR," the voices persisted and in the back of his mind he registered that it was coming closer, moving closer to him.
The Khan'dalians must have taken her and left him here, he reflected. Why, was beyond him. What could they possibly want with her! She was hurt and no hindrance to them.
He could feel the first tendrils of warm anger build in him, a small fire only strengthening in size and force the longer he kept looking around him in a daze and finding no sign of River. He shivered, not from the cold – that was long forgotten – but from the intense feeling of wanting to tear something apart.
"Doctor," the voices were really close now, almost beside him but he ignored them. Merely inconsequential.
He felt arms encircle him and the worried voices of his companions in his ears. He couldn't really be bothered though.
"You alright! God – We were so worried. We thought we had lost track of you. All of a sudden there were these explosions, and… Doctor? Doctor, are you hurt?"
He tried to stand up but his legs wouldn't hold him and he toppled back to the ground, the hard glass uncompromising. He kept his line of sight on the horizon, the dark outline of the Palace in his view. She had to be there.
"Doctor?"
"Please, what's wrong? Is this your blood? Are you bleeding?"
"River" he answered plainly, half expecting his companion to understand despite never really having told Amy and Rory he was meeting River.
"River?"
He could hear the confusion and worry in their voices but somehow it sounded far away. The image of River was forefront in his mind and he couldn't move. He felt like crying.
"Doctor… doctor are you crying?" Amy asked in a distressed voice and the Doctor reflected on the question. Maybe he was crying, he mused. On the inside he was screaming he knew, but maybe physically he was crying. He lifted a hand to his eyes and was mesmerized to find his cheeks wet. Maybe it was just the rain, he calculated. He looked to the Palace again, the dark towering spires seeming ominous in the night.
He almost started weeping when he finally noticed what he unconsciously known the moment he had awoken. The Palace and the inner city were encased in a shield. A Khan'dalian quantum-locked bubble that would keep everything out and everybody in.
"What should we do?" he heard Rory ask Amy.
Amy knelt beside him and he saw her worried eyes trying to make contact with his. But she was obscuring his view of the Palace, so he shifted a bit, trying to get a better view.
"Doctor," she asked him in gently voice, "what is the matter with River?"
"Gone – the Khan'dalians have her. I think," he answered.
Taking a deep breath, calming himself down, he managed to stand on his legs despite them being quite wobbly. With a last look at the distant Palace he turned around and regarded his two companions who looked as confused as he felt despaired.
"Right," he said, his voice monotone, "Good thing I parked the Tardis outside this mess, huh"
It took him three months to track her down. Three months of absolute desolation and a forceful, unmanageable rage.
-o-
Khan'dalians specialised in slavery among other things, infamous throughout the thirteen constellations of Spinning Draught. The Khan'dalian Major must have found River a suitable candidate for that, the Doctor had reasoned. And so he had sat the co-ordinates for the home-galaxy of the Khan'dalians, bringing Amy and Rory along for the rescue. That was three months, seven planets and hundreds of sonicing and entering ago.
He was bad-tempered and grumpy, he knew, and sometimes he wondered how Amy and Rory managed to stick with him. Patience he thought darkly, of which he had none of left. He would have left them behind if it hadn't been for the stubbornness of one Amy Pond, who insisted he was hardly fit to look after himself, let alone rescuing River from an army of flying nightmares.
Today they were stuck in the middle of a subterranean interplanetary range of walkways that connected the triplet planets of Druio III-O. Really it was a vast jungle with devastating loop holes that would devour you like a cavernous plant and spit you out again in a whole new place. It was wonderfully disorienting, he thought surly. One second they were trudging below the shadow of the threspian trees in the Forest of Shade, on Druio I, and then suddenly reality would blur around him and he would end up lying half in a raging river in the delta network of Yap'thr, Druio II. It was confusing as hell.
"Doctor!" Amy complained for the hundredth time, "What are the damn odds of finding River here!" He could hear Rory mumbling something unintelligible behind him – most likely cursing the walk way for having dumped him in the middle of the river. The Doctor felt his mouth quiver slightly with a repressed smile. Poor Rory.
"The guardsman on Draia IV said she was sent to the Jungles! This is the Jungles!" He answered Amy for the umpteenth time.
"Now, come along Mr and Mrs Pond," he sounded too chipper, a bit forced, but he had to cheer himself up or he would go mad. And if he went mad, he would give up and sit down in the muddy water to cry. And his clothes would be a mess then.
"Right, right," Amy grumbled but followed him nonetheless, Rory on her heels.
Traipsing and trekking through high plantation, following the bending of the river, the Doctor prayed for them to just walk without being transported again, without a walkway accidentally transporting them away. If River was here, the most likely place would be on Druio II. They had been hiking through Druio II numerous times now, only to be transported to some god-forsaken other place every time they neared the City of Yap'Thr'ii. And he had sneaky suspicion this was no accident – River had to be in the city – otherwise he had no idea what he could do. The Jungles were treacherous and vast, but the Khan'dalians tended to leave them desolate and deserted, populating small areas and staying in their cities. Yap'Thr'ii was a good bet, he thought.
"This is mad," he heard Rory address Amy behind him.
"Yeah," she agreed, "but he needs us."
"Yeah, I know. He's a right mess"
"Poor fella, trekking through space and time to find his enslaved wif-"
"HEY – I am right here," he bellowed as he spun around, glaring at the two conspirators. They did not even have the decency to look even remotely contrite, both wearing goofy grins and suspicious knowing looks. Companions phew!
"Right less chatting, more walking! March, march!" he directed at them as he started striding forth again.
"Mad, I say!" he heard Rory whispering.
Another lost cause, he thought, getting humans to shut up. Always yakkering away, blabbering every which way the wind flew, gossiping to every man and his dog.
"Doctor, when are we going to eat?" Amy nagged.
"Yeah, I could do with a burger," Rory supplemented.
"Don't they have McDonalds in space?"
"Amy, real food!"
"What, you said you wanted a burger!"
And they kept on their light-hearted squabble about real food and fast food, driving him crazy, laughing at each other.
Digging through his pockets when he finally had had enough of their cheerful banter, he found two apples.
"Here you go – have an apple," he threw the two fruits up in the air, caught them again and gave them to the two companions, who were staring at him flabbergasted.
"You run around with food in your pockets!" Rory sounded slightly appalled.
"How handy," Amy commented with a smile.
"You know what they say – an apple a day keeps the doctor away," he told them, trying to repress a laugh at the look on their faces. Well, a rescue mission shouldn't have to be depressing, he thought. The least he could do was enjoy the wild nature and the delightful hike through the Jungles. Pah!
"Onwards," he roared, pointing his hand in the air.
He had barely taken two steps before he was once again interrupted.
"Doctor, you left something," Rory called. He spun around and watched Rory pick his psychic paper up from the ground. It must have fallen out of his pocket as he was digging around for apples. Good thing, companions huh, he contemplated as he thought about how much more hard his life would be without the psychic paper. Good grief – when was his bad luck going to end!
"Thanks Rory," he told the boy as he took the paper. And just as he was about to put it back where it belonged, he saw the writing. Faint words flashing across the white paper, in a familiar loopy handwriting.
"RI-vah!" he shouted in a loud, maniacal voice as he jumped around Amy and Rory, holding the paper securely in his hands, and his hearts leaping with hope, finally.
"Located and found," he laughed triumphantly, holding the paper above his head, gazing at it admiringly.
"What?" Rory and Amy chorused in confusion, giving him a look that said they thought he had at last succumbed to madness.
"See," he laughed as he pushed the paper in front of their eyes, pointing to the writing "she's been sending me a message – she's right here. I was right!"
He watched as they read the message and their faces lit up with the same joy as his.
"Onwards," he cried again, this time a noticeable bounce in his steps, certain the rescue would be successful and spectacular as he strode through tall, blue grass. He could already feel himself soaring, serenity settling into him again and the heavy despair slithering away.
Somehow they managed to find the city without any mishaps – at long last – and the Doctor watched the looming metropolis from atop a hill, scrutinizing and analysing it from above, drawing invisible lines in his head as he contemplated possible scenarios and routes. Yap'Thr'ii, capital of Druio II, was not called the Gateway to the Jungles for nothing, the towering, enormous threes – Grull if he was not mistaken – creating a network of intertwining housing and establishing a complex system of an inhabited forest.
The view was spectacular and something all together different. Amy and Rory beside him were silent for once, admiring the view with wide eyes and open mouths. Dusk was slowly settling across the horizon and bathing the green city below them in an ethereal light.
"Wauw," Amy breathed.
"Yap'Thr'ii – the 17238th wonder of the world," the Doctor spread his arms in a flourish, presenting the incredible sight, "at least, the last time I checked"
Roars came from the sky above them, and they all looked up and watched a tribe of flying beasts – nightmares – dash across the sky in an animate chase, their huge, leathery wings spread and catching the last light. He watched them descend, rotate and then start to climb their way up again in the sky; a playful game of catch me he thought, slightly fascinated though he knew the animals would be nothing but terror face to face. But watching them from a distance, no gun-wielding, maniacal riders directing them, playing almost as childish as the big animals could, was an altogether different experience than three months ago.
"Won't they attack us?" Rory asked hesitantly, worry lacing his voice.
"Most likely not – although we better move. Last one down gets to do chores!"
And they scrambled down the hill, passing boulders and weird-looking vegetation in their competitive race to get to the bottom first, laughter ringing in the air. The Doctor looked happily at Amy and Rory as he ran, glad to see them enjoying themselves despite his decidedly bad, temperamental mood for the last three months. At least he hadn't scarred them for life. He ran with hope, his spirit soaring like the nightmares in the sky, as he raced towards the jungle city and River. He'd promised himself, three months ago, that he would find her no matter what. He owed her. And he would find her, today.
Hang on sweetie, he thought.
-o-
He met her again and again. Always, the ever impossible River. Deep down she never really changed. She remained his constant, forever ready with a smile and a hello sweetie. Oh she was different in her personal early days but she was still River. Ebb and flow – nearly as eternal as she could be. The tide would bring her in and the tide would bring her away. He would stand on the shore to catch her.
-o-
"Hello sweetie"
This was not his River, he thought in a panic. How could it be? They had stumbled in through an arch of old tree trunks, the western gate of the city, and barely taken two steps inside the green suburban walkways when out of nowhere a gang of Khan'dalians guards had swooped down on them. He'd forgotten it was the 67th centrury and Khan'dalians were still reeling about the Chrone War – so he'd forgotten that mistrust would be doubled. The Khan'dalians were bound to be paranoid after that war – how could he have forgotten!
They had taken him, Amy and Rory in a tow as well, to the Higher Council, their large, clumsy claw-like fingers digging into his wrists as they hauled him down the gnarled, wooden streets of the city, crowds of citizens looking curiously at the parade.
And this was not the Higher Khan'dalian he'd expected to be presented to.
"River," he asked tentatively, almost hesitant to speak her name. Amy and Rory mumbled behind him in distress, their mouth gagged, their eyes locked unto River in hopeful relief. He was pushed to his knees by a guard, a sharp spear digging into his sides. He quickly bowed his head in deference, not really keen on that spear. How in the name of all precious time, had River managed to be seated on the Higher Council, in Yap'Thr'ii of all places.
"Stand down," she told the guards and he immediately felt the pressure of the spear lighten. He looked up and caught her gaze; and it doused him in cold water. She looked like a stranger.
"You are trespassing," she told them as she clicked her fingers together as if making casual conversation.
"River," he tried once again, disbelief in his thoughts and voice. The spear jutted into his skin again and the guard growled; "You will show defiance when speaking to Higher Song, ape"
"It's alright, Dh' – leave us." River told the guards. The guard looked at his Higher unsurely but she gave him a nod. The Khan'dalians left, their heavy armour clinking and their yellow eyes directing warning glares at him, sure he was up to no good. Good instincts – he never was.
Amy and Rory had been un-gagged and the first words uttered in the now quiet council room, was the high-pitched voice of Amy's; "Ex-plain"
"River – what in the name of Gallifrey!" he exclaimed, following Amy's outburst with his own. Rory was silent and giving River a cautious glower – he had noticed the difference as well.
River moved from her seat, a greenish cape billowing behind her as she dashed across the room. The cloak shimmered, colours ranging from green to blue in a mad display of luminosity. She came to an elegant halt before him, her bare feet next to his hands on the wooden floor.
"Don't call me that," she hissed down at him, her eyes shining darkly.
He stood up with a bolt and glared back at her, confusion turning to embers of a fiery anger in the pit of his stomach.
"What – don't call you River! It's your name, isn't it!" he goaded her, frowning back at her.
"Why are you here?" she sighed in a cold voice, stepping back from him, and he saw a small look of fright in the depths of her eyes. Anger and coldness he could deal with. But fear? He cautiously took a step towards her but she moved further back, her hands straying towards her belt and a weapon.
"River," his voice was strained, "what is the matter?"
"Time Boy," she commanded him, "you are free to leave Druio II – take your friends with you. Just leave now"
"River – it's us," Amy called from behind him. River barely glanced at her.
"River – don't do this," he pleaded.
"Just leave"
"That's your final say?"
"Yes"
"Then I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he told her and he watched as her dark eyes turned on him, confusion and fright in their midst. Her hand turned to her belt again but he caught her by surprise, latching onto her wrists as he tackled her to the floor in a heap. He landed on top, straddling her, one hand placed on her mouth. Her muffled cries for help went straight to his hearts but there was nothing else he could do. Something was wrong, and he wasn't leaving her in the Jungles, all by herself. He wasn't that heartless.
"Help me," he growled back at Amy and Rory. They hurried to him, their eyes scared and their hands nervously holding each other.
"Need my sonic," he instructed them as he struggled with River who now understood what he was about to do. Her eyes no longer blue but dark black orbs of fear, he wanted to do nothing else but to soothe her, but that had to wait. He felt her teeth sink into his palm, biting hard and drawing blood, but he didn't let go. If the guards heard her cries, he would never get away with her.
"Use the red setting, press 1-8-5 – yes and point it at her," he told Rory who was holding the screwdriver tremblingly in his hands.
River squirmed beneath him, tears running down her cheeks.
He looked into her eyes; "I'm sorry," he apologised as Rory pointed the sonic screwdriver at her, and she lost consciousness. I'm sorry, his hearts cried silently.
-o-
It had been a goddamn miracle, he thought, when they were finally back in the Tardis, safe. A heavy River slumped over his shoulders, two frightened companions on his heels and a metropolis of battle-ready Khan'dalians, and they'd snuck away in the night without incidence. Kidnapping shouldn't be so easy he thought darkly, for that was what they'd done. Another notch on his international crime card – the Judoon would have a field day.
River was in his rooms, sleeping on his bed. The Tardis would let him know if she woke. He'd sent Amy and Rory to the library, told them to go sleep or something. He wandered around the console, trying to gather his thoughts and trying to squelch the sickening image of River, beneath him, frightened. He felt guilty – but he couldn't leave her. He pressed a few buttons, pulled the lever, and spun on his heels, wandered counter-clockwise now. The Tardis hummed with his distress, and he knew she could feel his pain.
Who are you, he asked River in his mind.
-o-
He watched as she came to, her eyes opening and latching onto him instantly. He could see anger, uncertainty and terror in her eyes, written into her blue gaze and her slight shivering.
"You," she stuttered.
"Sorry," he told her again.
"You kidnapped me!"
"I rescued you!"
"Wordplay!" she snorted derisively.
"River, you were taken from the City of Lights. I travelled across the goddamn universe to find you!"
She looked at him strangely.
"Why?" Her voice was small, disbelief in her tone and it struck him that she hadn't though he would come – doubted that he would really go to all that trouble to just find her. How was he supposed to respond to that? She looked so fragile, ready to shatter at the slightest touch.
"Why not," he told her in a half laugh, half strangled cry.
"You should have let me be"
"River – I can't just let you be –it's my turn to be annoying," he spoke, trying to put a little humour into their conversation.
"Stop saying that name" she was shaking.
"Why?" something was wrong with her, and he was going to find out – no matter what.
"It's-it's... just don't" her hands shook and she tried to still them, her lips pressed together in a firm line and her eyes turning darker and darker. He could almost feel the air tingling with her emotions, fear and agony flavouring it bitter and a distant, pained look in her fathomless eyes. She looked ready to either flee or fight him, her teeth bared in warning. The abyss in her eyes was more animate than human; an animal backed into a corner.
"Sweetheart," he told her, avoiding her name for now "tell me what you remember? From the Palace of Light?"
"Just cold, I was so cold. You were there."
"Yes…" he prodded her on, his voice taking on a hypnotic edge – soothing and comfortable.
"I- the Night Rider woke me up. He knew me, knew my name"
"The Major in the tunnel – he knew your name."
"Yes."
"Then what?"
"It all came back. Again – I'll never find peace," she told him in a sob, burying her head in a pillow and pulling her legs up, her arms wrapped around herself protectively. The words were coming faster and faster from her, as she wept. "It was just like the war – all the blood, all my blood. I was so angry, Doctor. So angry."
He edged closer to her, brushing his hands across her back at first cautiously. When she did not flinch, he drew her closer, murmuring consolable words in her ears as he kissed the top of her head, her hair brushing against his cheeks.
"What war, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice low and calm even though on the inside he was burning, a raging fire of confusion and heartache at her state. She had tugged strings on his hearts somewhere along the line, and she was now pulling them. It ached.
"I didn't wanna go back," she wept, "I shielded myself – but I was so angry. It hurt."
"shh," he tried to soothe her, not really following her thread of thought.
"I just wanted to disappear," she told him between hiccoughs, "and the Major took me to Druio."
"What war?" he asked again.
"It was just like the Tempus… I was dying all over again" she answered him in a small voice, and he cringed on the inside as he silently begged for her to take the words back.
"I just wanted to forget. To not feel." she told him in a strangled cry, and he understood her plea for oblivion – though he wished he did not.
"It's alright, you just sleep. I'm here. I'm right here," he whispered to her as he rubbed comforting circles on her back. Her sobs quietened down, little by little, and he felt her shaking lessening.
"I'm here"
He heard her breathing evening out, and knew she was asleep again.
"I'm here" he whispered into her hair.
-o-
"But, where are you going? Are you just going to disappear, after all the trouble I went to, to rescue you?"
"Don't know," she answered in a clipped voice, her eyes avoiding him. Her tan skin glistened, her hair almost bronze in the bright light of the Tardis. She looked like a stranger, he thought with a pang of dread, her eyes detached and her smiles sad. He wanted to hold her, desperately, and comfort her, but fear held him back. She looked on the verge of break-down again and it only made him angrier. And having no one to direct it at, she got the full brute of his frustrations and his own inability to console her.
"So you're off! No thanks or anything."
Her eyes narrowed at his tone and he watched as infuriation coloured her cheeks rosy and brought a dark glint to her stare.
"Thank you," she said in an emotionless voice.
This was a nightmare.
He watched her blank expression.
"I have-I don't," River started and then stooped, drew a breath and said in a clear voice, "I just can't travel with you right now – I need to go – you really don't want me here now"
She was in shock, he thought. He was too, if he was honest with himself.
"You sent me a message on the psychic paper? Why would you do that, if you did not want be to rescue you?" he asked as a last resort. Maybe she had not wanted him to find her but that note on the psychic paper told him otherwise. Some part of her had called for help. He was not going to ignore that.
"I don't know"
"River, please just tell me. What's wrong?"
"I don't know"
"River - "
"I feel so strange - foreign"
"You said something about the Tempus War? Earlier?"
"Don't!" she warned him.
"River, you are from the 51th century? Tempus was in 59!"
She drew a breath and he watched as an internal battle raged inside her. She bit her lower lip, drawing blood and then spoke – her voice now frighteningly clear; "I'm from nowhere"
The words rang in his mind, hollow and with a scent of despair and darkness.
"No, you are not. C'mon, don't say that."
"It's true. You've always known. You knew when I met you the first time"
"River, this is not funny." He told her, a feeling of wrongness in his mouth. Everything was falling out of his control, screams ringing in his ears and images of war flashing in his mind – the deep, almost black colour of blood swimming before his eyes – this was not his memories.
"Never thought I would have to tell you – it was such a relief back then – finding someone who knew and I did not have to explain."
"River," he pleaded but she did not hear it, the image of mangled bodies and a heaving ground in uproar making him spin – maybe she had no control over this either.
"Were you there?" she asked him, her weak voice breaking through his daze.
He sighed, inhaled fresh air again – no more charred, ashes.
"No, I tried. But the Shadow Proclamation declared it unsafe – left the goddamn galaxy to fight for themselves."
"Each one his own," she echoed in a distant voice and once again he was assaulted by the raw, rank taste of blood in his mouth, the air stale with decay – and he could feel her pain.
"I slipped in through the matter-lines and quantum locks, in the end though," he told her, trying to overcome the need to retch – this was merely an aftertaste of what she was experiencing, had experienced. Simply imprints – but it felt so real.
She was silent.
"River," he asked her hesitantly, part of him afraid to hear her utter more words and afraid to feel more despair and death. Tempus had been a miniature version of the last days of Gallifrey, he knew, it had been hell personified.
"I think the guard slipped me something – it broke though my shields."
"You've shielded yourself?"
"It's been so long. So long since I last felt this much."
"A furie – erinýes," he whispered and the exploding image in his mind, colours twisting and burning, told him the truth of his statement.
"Half," she whispered back, "my dad was human."
"The reapers?" he asked.
"I was there… it's so long ago now, I barely remember, shielded myself too good. But it all came back, in the Lights – blood – blood everywhere - and I just wanted to run away. Death – always death." Her words were all tangled up as she jumped around in narrative – but he understood.
"I'm sorry," he told her; he knew the stories, the untold stories of horror and he could feel them, her mind in turmoil and no shields to hold her entity in her body.
"Don't – I'm not broken – just remembering," she told him suddenly, her eyes gazing at him, inside him.
"I'm-"
"You are like a volcano – all those imprints of you" she told him, "it's like a raging forest fire, flooding my senses."
"Sorry," he apologised once again.
"Inferno of fire – pain, longing, desperation, joy – love?"
He looked back at her and confirmed, "Love", the air suddenly no longer oppressive and desperate. He watched her mull over the word, tasting it and he felt a blossoming serenity in her mind, taking over.
She leaned forward, her eyes burning turquoise and he could see infinity in their depths – complicated anomalies of the universe, Time Lords and Erinýes of the Tempus.
She kissed his cheek, tenderly and tentatively. He turned his head and caught her lips in his own. She tingled, prickled and teased his mind; he could feel the torrent of emotions burning within her open mind, intense and ablaze. A beacon of light, he thought and he felt her shiver at the thought and she bolted back in surprise.
"I see you," he told her as he pressed two fingers to her lower lip.
"I see you" she told him and imitated him, her fingers lightly touching his lips.
-o-
He met her again and again. Star-crossed lovers meeting in a distorted chronology as the temperamental nature of time played a hazardous game with them, their hearts at stake. Infinity was a tempting display of affection, and he would offer her the stars, if he could. Tie a string around the sun and bring it to her, to light a path for her in the darkness. He would court her with space, love her with time and touch her with infinity; a token to eternal love. But time tricked him, and he was the one being seduced. Slowly melting, turning into clay and ready for her to mould.
-o-
"River" he named her as he brushed his fingers along her jaw and enjoyed the small moans she uttered at his touch and the small bursts of colour that sprung forth, between the cracks in her shields, "darling," he whispered against her skin, his mouth tracing a path from the hollow between her neck and ear to the edge of her lips.
She opened her eyes and he looked into them; trust a palpable indigo colour, desire burning midnight blue, and love a deeper, warmer azure. He kissed the tip of her nose and he felt the deep burgundy shade of elation spring from her and enveloping him.
He laughed and she joined him.
He laid his head on her chest, drawing his arms around her middle and listening to her heart beating, steadily and comfortingly.
"You are going to the City of Lights soon," he told her bare, still flushed skin.
"I am?" she asked, curiosity warming her voice.
"Yes" he told her, trying to hold back his feelings about the past, her future.
"You coming with me, sweetie?" she laughed and he could feel the reverberations through her chest, tickling him.
"No – not me"
"Another you then?" she teased.
"Yes"
"A date, how exciting" she cooed and ruffled his hair, her fingers sliding through his strands languidly, "– you are quite the matchmaker, my doctor"
"Hmmm," he murmured against her skin.
They lay in silence for a while, even breaths and her heart below his ear.
"You alright?" she whispered, her voice quiet and almost sleepy, her fingers playing with his hair again.
"Yeah – go to sleep m'love," he told her, holding her closer, listening to her heart as she slowly, innocently dozed off. Her fingers stopped moving; resting at the nape of his neck and her chest rose and fell to a silent, slow melody.
When he was sure she was asleep, he whispered;
"I'm sorry"
Their time was written in stone – ebb and flow of a rhythm that was not to be disturbed. The past was the past and the future was the future. He'd promised her a long time ago. So long ago, he thought - promised that he wouldn't change a single thing. He would watch them run and he wouldn't change a single line – he'd promised her. Action and reaction, trial and error. If he changed something, if he warned her, if he took her away to somewhere else, time would unravel and reality would blur, and their story might change. He'd promised her he wouldn't change a line, and he would keep that promise – even if it meant his hearts were breaking.
-o-
They met again and again. They met and argued, fought and drove each other crazy. They met again and again, in a flurry of flirtatious feelings, teasing and touching. They met in quiet, moments, no words needed. They met in the rain, in the sun and under the water. They met each other in space, on earth and out among the stars. He met her as young and as old, grumpy and cheerful, sad and in love, angry and seductive. Again and again – he met her when he thought it impossible, met her when he thought it improbable. She flew through his life, back and forth between worlds, and he caught her, every time, in his hands, her life shining brightly and warming his skin at contact. She shone bright, pulsated painfully and stung his hands. But she was his.
His shining star, he thought lovingly.
-o-
The End
Love feedback though :)
